Amnesia
by Ineedtostopshipping-srsly
Summary: A short bechloe one-shot based off of the song Amnesia by 5 Seconds of Summer. Really angsty because it's almost 3am and I've been listening to sad songs for hours now. You've been warned!


_**I drove by all the places we used to hang out getting wasted**_  
 _ **I thought about our last kiss, how it felt, the way you tasted**_  
 _ **And even though your friends tell me you're doing fine**_

 _ **Are you somewhere feeling lonely even though he's right beside you?**_  
 _ **When he says those words that hurt you, do you read the ones I wrote you?**_

 _ **Sometimes I start to wonder, was it just a lie?**_  
 _ **If what we had was real, how could you be fine?**_

 _ **'Cause I'm not fine at all**_

 _ **I remember the day you told me you were leaving**_  
 _ **I remember the make-up running down your face**_  
 _ **And the dreams you left behind you didn't need them**_  
 _ **Like every single wish we ever made**_  
 _ **I wish that I could wake up with amnesia**_  
 _ **And forget about the stupid little things**_  
 _ **Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you**_  
 _ **And the memories I never can escape**_

 _ **'Cause I'm not fine at all**_

 _ **The pictures that you sent me they're still living in my phone**_  
 _ **I'll admit I like to see them, I'll admit I feel alone**_  
 _ **And all my friends keep asking why I'm not around**_

 _ **It hurts to know you're happy, yeah, it hurts that you've moved on**_  
 _ **It's hard to hear your name when I haven't seen you in so long**_

 _ **It's like we never happened, was it just a lie?**_  
 _ **If what we had was real, how could you be fine?**_

 _ **'Cause I'm not fine at all**_

 _ **I remember the day you told me you were leaving**_  
 _ **I remember the make-up running down your face**_  
 _ **And the dreams you left behind you didn't need them**_  
 _ **Like every single wish we ever made**_  
 _ **I wish that I could wake up with amnesia**_  
 _ **And forget about the stupid little things**_  
 _ **Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you**_  
 _ **And the memories I never can escape**_

 _ **If today I woke up with you right beside me**_  
 _ **Like all of this was just some twisted dream**_  
 _ **I'd hold you closer than I ever did before**_  
 _ **And you'd never slip away**_  
 _ **And you'd never hear me say**_

 _ **I remember the day you told me you were leaving**_  
 _ **I remember the make-up running down your face**_  
 _ **And the dreams you left behind you didn't need them**_  
 _ **Like every single wish we ever made**_  
 _ **I wish that I could wake up with amnesia**_  
 _ **And forget about the stupid little things**_  
 _ **Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you**_  
 _ **And the memories I never can escape**_

 _ **'Cause I'm not fine at all**_  
 _ **No, I'm really not fine at all**_  
 _ **Tell me this is just a dream**_  
 _ **'Cause I'm really not fine at all**_

Beca Mitchell had never wanted to fall in love. She had wanted enough money to live contently, a bed to sleep in each night, a guitar always within reach and a job producing music. Big dreams for a small town girl? Yes; but Beca was willing to fight for the life she dreamed of, and nothing was going to change that.

And nothing really did, she supposed, it was just that something became just as - if not more - important than the lights of L.A.

That something being Chloe Beale, who chose a Summer high school party to invade Beca's life for the first time, and the same something that never quite left.

The party had been loud, the music poorly arranged into a collection of same-y top 40 pop songs, all with echoing bass notes and high pitched vocals to attribute to the terrible song choices that only seemed to decrease in standard as the night wore on, but drunk teenagers were drunk teenagers, and they were guaranteed to be able to dance to anything. The only drinks served were obviously watered down beer and a punche spiked with sone type of liqeour, so no-one was sober and everyone had the horrific taste of cheap spirits and local beer mingling on their tongue, but the desired craziness was in the air despite the dissapointing alcohol, and it was enough for Beca.

Usually she wasn't much of a dancer, but after way too many drinks she was tearing up the dance floor alongside what felt like thousands of students, but was really only a few dozen, and one of those partyers happened to be a gorgeous redhead who had Beca completely hooked from the first sentence - "How many drinks will it take for you to hook up with me?" - to which Beca had answered with "Pretty girls get a free pass," and suprised even herself with her own flirtatiousness.

The pair had hooked up - as predicted - but hadn't quite been able to keep it down to a 'one night' thing. No, it had become an 'all the time, make-out everywhere, shameless flirting and excessive sex' thing with a side of 'fluffy adorable cuteness'.

You heard right folks; Beca Mitchell was in a not disasterous relationship, and was happy.

She was the more realistic of the two, frequetly reminding Chloe to wear her seatbelt and stop stressing about unimportant grades and to accept that sometimes bad shit happens that we can't help. Chloe, on the other hand, was regularly pestering her girlfriend to smile and to not be so pessimistic all the time, much to the annoyance - she secretely loved it, Chloe could tell - of Beca, said girlfriend.

It was strange, but the pair fit perfectly; the popular, pretty party girl and the isolated but suprisingly funny alt-girl. They balanced each other out and yet offered one another a boost anytime they needed it. The pair would go for walks in the fields and hang-out in barns and swim in the lakes, completely content with their lives and neither even considering leaving the other.

Which might not have been as good as it sounded, as soon they weren't just a duo of seventeen-year-old dreamers, but two hopeful, talented high school graduates waiting for their big breaks.

And turns out Chloe got hers first - years earlier than Beca, in fact - only a few months after turning eighteen, and was suddenly off to pursue her life of fame in the world of actors and pretty faces with posh clothes, ready to leave almost instantly and book her flight minutes after receiving the phone call.

See, falling in love wasn't what Beca had wanted, but it was what she was given, and at the time it was enough for her. But love - like any other emotion - is like a drug, and being hooked on a substance was hard.

It took Beca a long time to realise that the withdrawal was harder.

Once Chloe had left the confinements of their familiar small town, it had become hard to stay in touch. Not for Beca, no, since she was always free; but for her redheaded lover, who was travelling all over the States as she was swept up in a gracefull onslaught of fame and bright lights. And so, as time passed, Chloe became richer and more popular and overall more successful.

Beca, however, wasn't lucky enough to have an opportunity be handed right onto her lap only a few weeks after reaching eighteen, and so kept on playing at the local bar every Tuesday and Wednesday night, busking on the streets and filling in the occasional shift at Barden's pathetic radio station. The pair gradually seperated, a consequence of distance more than anything, and never even officially ended it, just eventually stopped communicating via text or calling every week.

Almost two years had passed by the time Chloe had a new partner. Tom. A fellow actor, loved by the industry and adored by his fans. He had perfect white teeth in a symmetrical smile with pretty dimples and a kind twinkle to his eyes.

Beca first saw him on TV when the two attended the Oscars as a couple, watching on her beat up screen from her stained couch and letting her fingers physically shake with envey.

Chloe moved on, reached better and bigger things, and Beca was left behind to keep track of her love's progress through YouTube interviews and award show carpets and magazine articles. She still envisioned a future of the fame and life of L.A., but her dreams held a more sorrowful tone, as if her subconsciousness recognised that the woman who inspired such fantasies had left - perhaps not intentionally, but leaving was leaving none the less - and that if those daydreams did foresee any truth, then Beca would be alone in a big city without the person who had promised to be her guide.

Beca had never intended to fall in love, but she had found herself caught in a hopeless cycle of longing for someone who no longer loved her back.

Now she found herself wanting to fall out of love almost as much as she wanted Chloe Beale to come back.


End file.
